My Boy Builds Coffins
by Alice von wonderland
Summary: Grell has finally met his "other half", but for a lady like him, apprenticing an undertaker is just filthy business. How can he keep the relationship up if he's unwilling to get his hands dirty? And what's William's role in all of this? sequel to Forsaken
1. Chapter 1

Title: My Boy Builds Coffins

Pairing: Grell X Undertaker

Rating: T—M, consider it being between the two

Story Contains: Yaoi

Chapter Warnings:

Summary: Grell has finally met his "other half", but for a lady like him, apprenticing an undertaker is just filthy business. How will he ever manage to keep this relationship going if he's unwilling to get his hands dirty?

Disclaimer: I don't own the characters, or the show Kuroshitsuji/Black Butler. I do not own, nor do I claim to have invented the title "My Boy Builds Coffins" All rights belong to their respective owners and I make no money from this story.

Chapter Number: #1

Author Note: As I promised, here is the sequel to Forsaken. Don't be fooled by the wording of the summary, it's quite lighthearted with minimal conflict. Just enough to ensure a plot.

Second Note: Why hasn't anyone used this song by Florence and the Machine for inspiration for Undertaker? My boy builds coffins… It fits him so well.

Third Note: Happy Holidays to all of you. This is your present from me. Sorry, no returns, exchanges, or refunds.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

After Undertaker's hat had fallen forward onto the floor and exposed his gorgeous eye to the lecherous red reaper, the younger shinigami acted in the behavior he knew best. He swooped close to Undertaker, slid the man's bangs boldly aside to take in a full glance of his lovely, sexy eyes and kissed him deeply. The Undertaker wasn't much of a lover, but Grell didn't mind so much. It was almost refreshing to have someone so inexperienced—someone he could teach to perform the way _he_ liked.

The two were a couple after that night passed, but in order for it to stay that way, Undertaker had commanded that Grell play the part of a woman while in the shop. It was obvious, Undertaker had stated, that a female apprentice for undertaking would cause a stir, but it would _destroy_ business if they knew Grell was a male.

Why was that?

Because Grell had an inability to keep his hands to himself. A female apprentice was something to scoff at, but a homosexual Undertaker and effeminate male apprentice would be a great deal worse.

Grell didn't mind really—wearing the red gown Undertaker had purchased for him to disguise his gender wasn't so bad and, after all, he really did feel more comfortable as a woman than a man. In fact, he was so comfortable playing the role of Undertaker's apprentice and fiancée that he felt more deceptive when he worked as a reaper and a male than he did as an undertaker and a woman.

He loved watching Undertaker sell caskets—Grell was forbidden to speak to the customers while Undertaker was present since the role of a woman was silence and _obedience_ (obedience being the one Undertaker constantly stressed since Grell was…Grell)…and because Grell had a way of scaring customers off—even when his teeth were disguised.

So Grell pouted whenever he caught Undertaker's eye as he presented a custom-made coffin to an older gentleman's son. The man, like most, was put off by Undertaker's speech, odd demeanor, and sick humor, but he paid for the coffin in full and left behind the suit he wanted his son to be buried in.

Grell's job was to dress the corpses and make them less revolting. A hard job, but cleaner than, well, cleaning and preserving the bodies. Grell simply had to watch as Undertaker performed that task with a wicked grin.

Undertaker attempted to make Grell do it once, but the event had ended with a shrunken corpse, a screaming customer, an angry Undertaker, and a Grell who complained of smelly, dried out hands for a week.

The two had come to an agreement. The only corpse Grell would ever handle again was Undertaker's…someone else would take the business then.

Grell sighed softly as the customer left and Undertaker's attention returned to his fiancée. When Undertaker gave up reaping, he gave up ageless immortality. He could still die as a reaper, but never of old age…Grell didn't want him to die, but someday he would.

He feared it would be soon…He had finally found happiness, and that usually meant that something had to go wrong.

"I don't like that look," Undertaker muttered as he slid past Grell behind the counter. Grell blinked and followed Undertaker with his eyes. "Let's fix it." Undertaker smirked madly and Grell's face dropped. Oh no… "Four years ago, a man came to me looking for a casket for his tall wife. When I told him the price he said to me 'but that will cost me all I have—all I'm worth!'—ooo—I told him 'bring your son. He's worth more than you.' The man said back 'I can't ask my son to bury his step mother.' To him, I said 'why?' to me he replied 'because he'd kill me'! And I said back—ooo—'exactly—you're worth more dead.'" Undertaker began laughing madly and Grell forced out a laugh or two as well.

It was part of being together—laughing at whatever made your lover laugh. His story made no sense, but Grell laughed along and managed to make the undertaker's cackling soften to a quiet giggle after planting a soft kiss on the corner of his mouth.

Grell hated Undertaker's humor, but he loved to watch him laugh.

When Undertaker died, that laugh would disappear.

Grell's lower lip trembled and Undertaker began to frown.

"Crying won't get you out of your work," Undertaker said firmly, turning to glance at the clock. "We close in half an hour. Sweep the floor and the counters now." Grell's sadness faded hastily into sulking frown. Undertaker never said anything he commanded firmly. Not towards Grell at least. He always spoke softly and, when he ordered something to be done, he spoke the phrase casually.

Regardless, Grell hated domestic chores and he completed them sloppily and with many stolen, sad glances and heartbroken sighs in between.

The ploy never worked—Undertaker still made him clean every night—but Grell was still hopeful that, someday, it would.

He swept the dust from the storefront out onto the street and passed a glance to the grey sky. He sighed and wiped invisible sweat from his brow and glanced back down towards the street. A woman he knew who constantly wore a pair of red earrings waved daintily in Grell's direction. He copied the gesture and smiled to her.

Madame DuBois…her husband wanted Grell, but she didn't know that. Her husband didn't know Grell was a man… Undertaker knew Monsieur DuBois wanted Grell. Grell was no longer permitted to attend the lady's parties, but the two 'women' continued to be friends.

For once, Grell had found a woman he could talk to…he thought it had something to do with the red jewelry she wore. Not just the earrings, but the necklaces and pendants…what was a high-class lady like her doing with the fiancée of an undertaker? Who knew, but being around her and her husband made Undertaker jealous…

Undertaker was most amusing when he was jealous.

Grell slipped back inside and began wiping down the counter vigorously while Undertaker scowled at him. Was Undertaker an obsessive lover?

Probably…He forbade Grell to go places, to speak with certain people…got angry when those rules were broken, but he never raised a hand in anger. Grell was flattered to be desired so strongly that he was forcedly locked away and silenced.

Grell was a special type of person and had a special type of lover. Undertaker could get as angry as he'd like, Grell would continue to disobey him whenever he saw fit and, whenever Undertaker was livid, Grell could always seduce him back to happiness.

"Undertaker?" Grell purred, setting the dusting rag aside and sliding towards the back room. "Can you help me? There's something broken in the back room and its leaking out all _over_ the floor." Grell winked and Undertaker's face twisted into a smirk. As the colourless man abandoned the counter and locked the front door early, he cooed and then pursued his red-clad _lady_.

~Alice Von Wonderland

Closing Note: I know this is a short chapter, but it's kick starting the 'plot'. This is a fluff fic. Not a lot of serious drama unfolds.


	2. Chapter 2

Title: My Boy Builds Coffins

Pairing: Grell X Undertaker

Rating: T—M, consider it being between the two

Story Contains: Yaoi

Chapter Warnings:

Summary: Grell has finally met his "other half", but for a lady like him, apprenticing an undertaker is just filthy business. How will he ever manage to keep this relationship going if he's unwilling to get his hands dirty?

Disclaimer: I don't own the characters, or the show Kuroshitsuji/Black Butler. I do not own, nor do I claim to have invented the title "My Boy Builds Coffins" (Florence + the Machine). All rights belong to their respective owners and I make no money from this story.

Chapter Number: #2

Author Note: A thousand pardons for the delay. My writer's bank has been overdrawn and now I'm a few ideas in the hole.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

At first William had been taken aback by Grell Sutcliffe's literal overnight transformation. After he'd left the redhead once their night together had ended, he'd assumed Grell would bounce back to normal within a couple of days. It wasn't like him to stay depressed for so long…at least not outwardly.

What had Grell expected him to do? Management wasn't allowed to have relationships with subordinates. He literally _couldn't_ stay that night. What if someone had seen? What if the others found out? Didn't Grell at least understand that he had _nothing_ except his job? Why did the lively vixen taken it personally when he never seemed to before?

Then again, didn't Grell seem to take everything he'd done personally those last few months?

…He had.

And then…right as William had prepared himself to catch the moping creature when there was no one else around, it was no longer moping…it was happy. Grell was absolutely elated. Happier than William could ever remember seeing him.

It was almost infuriating. It was supposed to have been _his_ job to make Grell happy again…and he wanted to know who had stolen that position away.

But nothing could have prepared him for the shock he received when he finally did find out. He'd followed the red shinigami home from work, and then kept pursuing him once he'd left—more than surprised when he spotted the man clothed in a stunningly crimson gown.

At first he'd thought "Oh, God. He's working at a brothel, I know it!" And then, after following him farther into the town, past the ladies who cried lewd words and their respective boarding houses, he froze in place outside of the Undertaker's shop.

The undertaker had opened the door for the red-clad "lady", and even wrapped an arm obscenely snugly around her waist as he escorted her—him—in. So that was where Grell found his happiness…In an undertaker's shop surrounded by red velvet lined caskets and bleeding corpses? No, William wouldn't believe it!

So that meant the reason he was happy was because he was with the undertaker…Undertaker was Grell's lover now. But how could that be? Grell had proved himself to be completely dedicated to him—William. It was impossible that he'd gotten over his anguish so fast!

But that was just like Grell…he never wasted time dwelling on things, did he?

Once he'd seen all that was necessary, William had left and returned to his own home; however, that hadn't been the last of his stealthy evenings. At least twice a week he followed that crimson-clad, loose reaper back and forth from work to his flat and on to Undertaker's shop. Each time, more and more resentment built in his stomach.

How dare he smile like that when the freakish undertaker welcomed him inside? How dare he? Didn't he know who he was supposed to be with?

That selfish rat. That selfish lecher!

Couldn't he put two things together? He had wanted him! William had wanted him! He just wasn't allowed to have him! How could he not know that? How did he not see it?

He _did_ see it. That was the only conclusion William could come to. He DID see it; he just was too impatient to start a relationship. He just wanted someone to be with every night. William wasn't able to give him that, so he had to run off to some scar-faced, possessed undertaker for companionship?

William felt he could rink the trollop's neck for that insult—for that utter disregard!

One night, recently, William had waited for the shop's hours to end. Grell still hadn't left so William slipped inside. The store was unlit, but it was still easy to find the stairs leading to the apartment above.

He didn't care who it was—who it _had_ been—seeing Grell lay with another drove William insane. William had worked so hard to get that one night with him, and he bet that the Undertaker hadn't even had to put up a fight.

And that evening, when he saw them in the unlit bedroom on the second floor, Grell was acting with more passion than he had when the two of them had been together that single night…

Grell had act like some sort of artwork when Will had been with him…then, with Undertaker, he acted like a…a…William didn't know what—a whore! A harlot!...A lover…

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Someone had been watching them, and Grell had known it. He didn't know if Undertaker knew, but he wasn't prepared to tell him that just yet. Knowing his darling Undertaker, he'd think it was Madame DuBois' husband, and that would cause trouble.

After he'd felt their private night being observed—though he didn't say anything to Undertaker at the time because, honestly, why spoil the moment?—he'd become much more aware of his walks around the city. It didn't take long for him to realize he was being stalked as well.

At first, he had felt very flattered—someone wanted him _really_ bad—but then he'd felt horror when he'd found out whom it was.

In fact, he was so upset by it that he didn't even let Undertaker open the door for him that day. He just burst inside, closed the door behind him, and then fled to the back room to hide for a while.

He didn't want William crawling around, it made him nervous. What could Will say to Undertaker? So many things that would make the man he'd come to love as well as lust after repulsed at the very thought of him… He didn't want to be something that made Undertaker nauseous.

Grell tried to make himself see the situation as something good, but it didn't work. Every time he thought "see, he knows he was wrong" his mind shouted back "so? Are you going back to him?" And that thought made his eyes start to tear.

He wanted Undertaker! Not William. He'd be happy if he never saw William again! He didn't want to even think about him let alone sleep with him again.

But what if Undertaker saw him and thought that he did? What if Undertaker's previously adorable jealousy became something to fear?

Grell didn't want to face that heartache again.

"I told you before that crying won't get you out of your chores." Grell could hear the smirk in Undertaker's voice, but instead of thinking about how that smirk had become something arousing over the time they'd been together, it made him genuinely sob.

What if William said something and then that sexy little smirk was forever pushed away? What if Undertaker really believed whatever lies Will could come up with? It would be over! All of his happiness would be gone—gone eternally!

Undertaker's face fell and he sighed as he kneeled down on the floor of his backroom beside his fiancée. Something about this fit of tears was different from the others…and the pretty little blood vessel had seemed distressed over something as of late.

"What is it?" Undertaker asked with a sad grumble in his voice. Grell kept imagining that that concern wasn't about his crying, but his relationship with William. He bet that Undertaker would use that same tone whenever William told him all of the lies he was forming in his frigid, evil head! "Quit crying!" It wasn't said angrily; actually, it was spat out in some sort of panic.

Undertaker didn't like it when people cried in his shop. Usually, he told them to leave or made Grell serve them.

Grell pulled himself together slightly, managing to stop the tears long enough to meet Undertaker's hair-obscured gaze, but then started again.

If William came between them, he'd never see those eyes again!

"Grell," Undertaker said in a firm yet still uncomfortable tone. "Stop it. Tell me what's wrong."

"A man on the street said this corset just makes me look fatter," Grell lied, pulling every fiber of his being together in order to become an actress like he used to.

"Fatter?" Undertaker asked, all of his concern vanishing and turning into unhappy confusion and relief. Grell nodded in response to him and buried his face in his knees. There was no way he would tell Undertaker about William before it was necessary. "Perhaps I should stop making the cookies," Undertaker said, slowly standing up from the floor.

Grell remained still and didn't look up.

"Once, a very large man needed a casket for his very _large_ wife—" Oh, God…Grell knew that tone of voice. It was another horrid joke. "—he said he would make payments since he couldn't afford to pay all at once. I told him—ooo—I had to have all of the money in advance because I'd need to pay to have an entire forest knocked down to have enough wood. And then I told him it would take a while to—ooo—keep the body preserved while we wait on the fresh wood. But since it was winter I offered to keep her in the alley." Undertaker laughed absurdly and Grell, forcing out a laugh like the actress that he was, wondered if the stories these jokes were based on were true, because if they were he didn't understand how the undertaker kept his business afloat.

~Alice Von Wonderland

Closing Note: William is suffering from what's called "failure to communicate". It has caused him to become seriously angry at Grell who is an actress, not a mind reader. I guess I lied about the drama though, but I figure that if there isn't a plot, I'm wasting everyone's time…So now I've introduced a plot, but that is as serious as I should allow it to get. (Keyword is "should".)

Grell and William must have a confrontation soon—and will Undertaker be involved? Will Grell's suspicions about Undertaker's jealousy taking a turn for the worst if William speaks to him? Wait and see.


	3. Chapter 3

Title: My Boy Builds Coffins

Pairing: Grell X Undertaker

Rating: T—M, consider it being between the two

Story Contains: Yaoi

Chapter Warnings: non-graphic lemon

Summary: Grell has finally met his "other half", but for a lady like him, apprenticing an undertaker is just filthy business. How will he ever manage to keep this relationship going if he's unwilling to get his hands dirty?

Disclaimer: I don't own the characters, or the show Kuroshitsuji/Black Butler. I do not own, nor do I claim to have invented the title "My Boy Builds Coffins" (Florence + the Machine). All rights belong to their respective owners and I make no money from this story.

Chapter Number: #3

Author Note: A little bit angsty, a little bit odd…It's hard for me not to make this suffocating-ly dramatic. Especially when listening "While My Guitar Gently Weeps" the entire time I was writing the second and third parts of this chapter…

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

By the time night had fallen heavily, Grell no longer worried about William or what he could possibly say that would upset Undertaker—no, instead he was doing his best to avoid scrubbing.

At the end of each month, Undertaker wanted the floors scrubbed…and the shelves dusted…and the…the…the filthy, repulsive mortician's table cleaned. Grell couldn't bear the thought of it! It was all so degrading and there was still a reeking body on that table! The smell would never leave his clothes!

And to think, scrubbing those floors…there he would be, dressed in a radiant red gown, on his knees on a cold, hard floor scrubbing away with a brush, soap, and dirty water…it was so unladylike.

So, rather than worrying about William destroying his romance, Grell was trying to find ways of getting out of work… A behavior Undertaker had become immune to.

"You can start with the shelves," the colourless man grumbled for the fifth time that evening as he finished up his work on the body that his fiancée was working so hard to avoid. His good humor was dwindling as he had to repeat the command…In fact, he felt for sure that if he had to ask again he would shout it.

"But my arm hurts…" Grell complained.

"Use your other arm then," Undertaker called back.

"It hurts, too," Grell whined, slipping behind the counter.

"You _will_ start on the shelves." Grell flinched at Undertaker's tone.

"You'll have to make me," the red shinigami replied with a vaguely seductive tone.

He knew that would work…it always worked…well, not always, but most of the time. So long as he didn't resort to it too much.

From the back room, Undertaker cooed in a sickeningly pleased voice and then slid into the main area of the shop. Grell leaned forward on the counter and waved his hips back and forth behind him. Though he couldn't see his lover's eyes, Grell could tell he was being stared at with equal frustration and lust.

Undertaker wanted that work done…but he also wanted Grell just as much.

Apparently, however, the work seemed more important.

With the same wicked grin as always, Undertaker argued back.

"Do the work, then I'll play with you." Grell's face fell instantly and Undertaker laughed hysterically.

"I-I won't do it!" Grell called, searching for another plan. Undertaker silenced himself and Grell felt those invisible eyes begin to glare at him. "You'll just have to punish me." Immediately, Undertaker's smirk returned and Grell felt a wave of relief collide with his chest. He didn't want to make Undertaker legitimately angry…pouting was cute, jealous fits of rage were oh so pleasing, but plain rage was unstable ground.

"Ooh?" Undertaker drawled, finishing it off with a series of disturbing chuckles. Grell felt his stomach drop and swallowed hard. Something in those small laughs signaled that his plan had failed. "You can start with the shelves," Undertaker began, still laughing. "Then the floors—" a loud caw of a laugh "—then the table…then you will either tend to the first body tomorrow or not return at all." Undertaker turned and retreated back into the back room after that, chortling to himself.

"If I clean really well," Grell stammered, horrified at the thought of preserving and cleaning another reeking corpse, "will you not make me—"

"We'll see," Undertaker interjected playfully from what sounded like upstairs.

After emitting a heavy sigh, Grell grabbed a rag from behind the counter and skulked away to do his wretched chores.

. . .

Grell lay in the bed upstairs that he and Undertaker shared for only a few hours every week. Long nails, like black claws, traced down his cheek, throat, and collarbone gently. His chest heaved with uneven, anticipating breaths while the absurdly thin body over him rained affection down upon him.

He writhed slightly and tossed his arms above him, encircling his lover's shoulders and pulling the man down in order to capture his lips.

Everything about it was like a heaven. Their tongues entwined graciously—the reaper who wore the colour of passion finally found a lover who didn't fear jagged teeth. A lover who loved those disfiguring fangs as if they were perfectly ordinary.

Somewhere in the dark, Grell had seen a flash as light reflected off of glass. He knew that, once again, someone was watching. William was watching the two of them together.

Didn't Undertaker sense him? That was what Grell wanted to know. Didn't the man above him feel those cold eyes burning into them?

Grell nuzzled into Undertaker's neck and shivered. He still had his arms wrapped around the colourless man's shoulders and was unwilling to let go, even when Undertaker requested for him to.

Though they continued, Undertaker knew that something was out of the ordinary. His little blood vessel was never so quiet, so…disconnected yet so close. Even when the moment of bliss came, his crimson lover hadn't made more than the most muffled sound of pleasure…still, he remained cuddled close, refusing to allow him to pull away or even extract himself.

The undertaker gently petted the red reaper's hair, listening to the creature's shaking breaths. Was he crying again? Undertaker didn't think he was…but that didn't mean he wasn't about to.

He just wished he knew what to do to help.

"Let me stay," Grell pleaded into Undertaker's ear softly, slackening his intense hold slightly. "Please."

"What's wrong?" Undertaker responded. Grell shook his head and pulled him closer again.

"Please. Just tonight. I don't want to be on my own tonight."

"What happened?"

"One night, please. Let me stay." Undertaker sighed and wrapped his arms around the shivering form gently.

"As long as you need to," he replied, feeling the body he was holding sigh in relief.

Still holding Grell tightly, Undertaker rolled over to lie on his back, cradling Grell's head on his chest and managing to get the man to free him from the constricting embrace. He still had on his fake lashes, Undertaker noticed, but those lashes were dry. He was sure, however, that if Grell opened his eyes, there would be sadness in those vibrant eyes.

. . .

It was immensely satisfying to be able to finally have someone to hold him on a night when he so desperately wanted it.

William had left…that night and this.

Grell knew that Will had been waiting for him to leave the mortician's shop, but gave up as Undertaker welcomed the red shinigami to stay.

Whether William just wanted to follow him home or to confront him was still in shadows, but Grell wished for neither. He wanted left alone…

He wanted left alone…like he had been that night.

William had been eager to leave then, so why did he stay around now? Because he wanted Grell to suffer? Because he didn't particularly want him, but didn't want anyone else to have him?

Grell just didn't know.

All that he was sure of was that he loved this strange, scarred undertaker now. He didn't want anyone else, and he refused to allow anyone to disturb the peace he'd finally found…

Even if it was incredibly dramatic and fulfilling to have two men fight over him.

~ Alice Von Wonderland

Closing Note: There will be a confrontation in the next chapter…but I won't allow myself to make it too heavy. I really want to stay lighthearted…it's just hard for me. Either way, you'll still get to see Undertaker in a jealous fit…


	4. Chapter 4

Title: My Boy Builds Coffins

Pairing: Grell X Undertaker

Rating: T—M, consider it being between the two

Story Contains: Yaoi

Chapter Warnings: Jealous, flirtatious undertakers?

Summary: Grell has finally met his "other half", but for a lady like him, apprenticing an undertaker is just filthy business. How will he ever manage to keep this relationship going if he's unwilling to get his hands dirty?

Disclaimer: I don't own the characters, or the show Kuroshitsuji/Black Butler. I do not own, nor do I claim to have invented the title "My Boy Builds Coffins" (Florence + the Machine). All rights belong to their respective owners and I make no money from this story.

Chapter Number: #4

Author Note: Sorry I took so long. I've been working on financial aid, earning scholarships, and getting employed again. Life is busy, so is Grell. Read and forget how long I took.

Also, I know William may seem OOC, but you must think, he's being forced to see the man he loves running around with someone else and the despair is finally starting to drive him insane…Don't hate, I just need to push the plot a little.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

At work, Grell hid in the crowd rusting here and there in the hallway after finishing his paperwork and before leaving to reap his share of souls. William could be seen by the doorway leading out, waiting—probably—for Grell in order to catch him.

For once, Grell wished he just looked like a normal person so he could escape whatever conversation the peeping tom, William, had in store for him. Instead, he had to try, really try, to blend in, keep himself hunched over so he didn't stand a head above any of the other employees rushing through the doorway out.

The doorway drew nearer and Grell's heart was racing... If he stayed ducked down… If he stayed close in the cloud of shinigami…

The door was only three body lengths away and William was looking off in the distance.

Grell managed to slide past…

He was outside of the building and William still hadn't seen him…

Good.

For the moment, he was safe.

After registering this, he snapped away to narrow alleys of London where the life of a loan shark's latest victim was slowly bleeding away.

. . .

When the work was all done—at least, when his _professional _work was all done—Grell changed into the red dress he adorned whenever he masqueraded as Undertaker's female fiancée and hurried to the dark place of business.

As usual, Undertaker opened the door for him and ushered him inside with a disturbingly joyful grin and a few, seemingly out-of-place, chuckles.

There was nothing eventful to depict as the evening concluded. Grell was in relatively good spirits, meaning he had the capacity to wail and theatrically wither when posed with his usual repugnant tasks. Undertaker, too, was in an acceptable mood… That is to say, he had enough tolerance left by the end of the day to keep from becoming annoyed with his awkward, red darling.

It wasn't until Grell's walk home that he began to remember what it was he had spent most his time worrying about when the undertaker he adored wasn't in his presence. And, by the time he remembered and had thought to take the "fast route" home, William—the epicenter of his concern—appeared.

"Sutcliffe," William said as he appeared before Grell on the sidewalk, blocking his path. Grell faltered a step backwards, managing to force on a malicious smile and pose himself in a dramatic way once his initial surprise cleared.

"Oh, William," he drawled, smiling and baring all of his teeth. "What's someone like you doing in a place like this?" He asked, pushing his hips to one side, successfully masking his swelling anxiety.

"What's someone like you doing with that hideous undertaker?" William said stiffly. "It's unbecoming for a 'lady' like you." Grell blinked several times in rapid succession and his smile fell away. He expected William to have behaved a little more…reserved. Not state out loud that he opposed the relationship on an obviously personal level…

It would have been more like William to have found a rule preventing the relationship from continuing. The way he'd found a rule to push Grell away before he realized that he wanted him.

"Or are you just doing it to get my attention like an angry Prima Donna?" William stepped closer to Grell who backed off cautiously, not fond of the cold gleam in the man's eyes. "That has to be it, doesn't it?" William said, starting to grin and continuing to advance, even as Grell had backed himself into the wall of the neighboring building.

"Aw, you're acting jealous, Will," Grell managed to purr, batting his eyelashes despite his growing alarm. "I thought you didn't like me." Grell pursed his lips, but that truly was the last teasing gesture he could make before his terror took over and he finally tried to escape.

It was too late. William had him cornered against the wall with no where to go and nothing to gaze at except cold but still so remarkably sad eyes. Grell began to feel as if he'd done something wrong to William…rather than having had William do something wrong to him.

"You're too good for someone like him," William stated, forcing Grell to look him in the eye. "You know that. Someone as lurid as you knows that."

"Lurid?" Grell echoed.

"You knew I couldn't stay, Grell," William growled, eyes suddenly narrowing. "I didn't leave because I wanted to. You _knew_ that."

"I didn't," Grell stammered, beginning to slide down the wall as William towered over him. Grell knew he could have easily pushed William away, wounded him, and run off, but…what William was saying sounded so…so _right_.

"You knew we'd both face termination if we were found out, Grell," William said, his temper flaring. It wasn't like Will to get so angry…It made Grell nervous. "I always knew you were reckless and conceited, but I never thought you'd take it this far."

"What do you mean?" Grell mumbled, knowing what it was William planned to say already, but unable to think of anything else.

"You can't love him," William stated—ordered. "You're too good for him, and you know it. You wouldn't ever settle for anyone who isn't as good as you. I know that about you," William growled. Grell passed a glance behind William at the vacant street and then back at the man's frigid eyes.

"Will," he pleaded, lifting his arms and pressing his hands against William's chest, beginning to push him away.

"Why would you do it? Why would you _degrade_ yourself just to make me jealous?" William grabbed Grell's wrists and jerked the redhead closer and keeping him trapped.

"I thought…"

"Did you just want to torment me?" Will demanded. Grell started squirming, trying feebly to free his wrists while staring into those hypnotically cool eyes. "To watch me degrade myself because I can't offer you what that _creature_ can? Because I can't court you in public because we have _laws?_"

"William, I didn't do it on purpose!" Grell cried, fighting harder to get free. "I thought you…"

"You thought I wouldn't notice?"

"No!" Grell protested, finally pulling one of his hands free. William held the other securely and backed Grell against the wall so it could help to pin the frenzied reaper. "I thought you did it to hurt me! I thought _you_ wanted to torture _me!_"

"Grell—"

"No!" Grell called, narrowing his eyes and glaring into William's intensely despite the tears he felt willing in them. "You didn't say anything, you just left me! Not 'I love you', not 'I'm sorry', not even 'goodbye'!" Grell sobbed despite himself and shook the disfiguring tears away. "I thought you did it to show me I didn't mean anything to you—what did you expect?" William didn't break Grell's stare, but his eyes went from momentarily confused to frigid.

"So you didn't ask me, you just had your fill and ran off to that undertaker?" Grell's face dropped and blinked back more tears. Was it possible that after acting so upset and so wounded that William refused to accept any of the blame?

But William was always so right about everything…

Grell turned his eyes to the ground and fell back against the wall.

Maybe… William was right about this, too… Maybe he hadn't thought things through. Maybe he did misunderstand what had happened… Maybe… Maybe he'd been too selfish all along… Maybe it was all his fault…

Grell lowered his head and let his hand drop to his side as William released it. The man in the dark suit stepped closer, even though there was hardly any space between them, and leaned down to place a kiss on the top of the other's head.

"Oooh," cooed a gravely and disappointed voice from the street. William pulled away and turned to face the passerby and Grell gasped before jolting backwards in surprise, smacking his head into the stone hard enough for his ears to begin ringing.

"Undertaker!" Grell stammered, taking advantage of William's distraction and breaking away from him in favor of approaching his more affectionate and expressive lover.

The man with the grey hair and undisclosed eyes had watched the very end of the scene with much confusion, called over by a passing rat who spoke of a faux woman in a red dress being cornered by a mysterious and dark man. He had almost expected to see the demon butler, but William wasn't far from his mind either.

He had expected to see an enthusiastic fight taking place, or perhaps even a passionless act of sex occurring in the nearby alley that he could have interrupted and—in other words—have saved the day. What Undertaker hadn't been anticipating was an intimate conversation that ended with another man kissing _his_ lover without the red shinigami putting up a fight.

At first he'd felt hurt, but when he saw Grell rushing at him with visible tear tracks on his unattractively reddened face those feeling were replaced. Grell didn't cry often, and when he did just for show it was only a tear or two, not enough to mar his face.

Undertaker supposed that he could have pushed Grell aside and made the pathetic creature feel alone in the world and dejected, thus returning him to a state that would attract his former idol's attention, but that just wasn't in his character.

Grell was his now, and it was funny—oh so hilariously funny—that the frigid William finally realized that he had made a mistake. And Grell, blinded by his own anxieties and insecurities, had proven himself a faithful lover to the undertaker simply by crying from either frustration or terror, or from being trapped in a melancholy state of mind.

Ah, and that little, red lover was trembling in his arms, shaking because he was so afraid of being tossed away or retrieved by cold William T. Spears.

Undertaker couldn't see how they weren't laughing.

Gently, he wrapped his arms around Grell's shoulders and held him close, smirking at William who, after having stared at them for several seconds, vanished into the night.

"I know this looks bad," Grell started, finally finding his voice and mustering enough strength to gaze up at the concealed eyes of his love. The instant he did, Undertaker began to chuckle, and then giggle, and then laugh, his chest rattling with each burst and his arms tightening around Grell's shoulders to keep him close. "It's not funny!" Grell called. Undertaker continued to laugh, a tear leaking from his left eye and drool running from the side of his mouth. "Undertaker," he whimpered, paranoid about the cause of his laughter.

"Stay with me tonight," Undertaker said, still grinning madly. Grell looked at him apprehensively, but still moved with him as he began to walk. "I won't have him trying to steal you away—ooo—like a thief in the night."

"He'll…Keep trying," Grell mumbled, wishing for a moment that Undertaker would take the situation seriously. Then he began to fear that maybe Undertaker _was_. Maybe he was really worried about what had happened, but refused to show it.

"So let him try," Undertaker mumbled, wrapping his arm around Grell's waist even though it made him look like a man courting a trollop. "The more he fails, the more I get to laugh," he added with a chuckle.

Grell walked with him in silence until they reached the shop and he was escorted inside. Once there, greeted by the familiar scents of the cleaner he'd used to recently and the reek of the chemicals in the back room, he began to feel his anxiety return. He felt safe walking the street with Undertaker's arm around him and keeping him warm…protecting him from whatever mysterious night man saw him walking past and mistook him for a gorgeous, although obviously wanton, lady.

Here, in Undertaker's quaint shop, he felt like crying again.

"Undertaker," Grell said softly as he followed the man up the steps towards the rooms above.

"Do you love him still?" Undertaker asked abruptly, stopping on the steps but not turning to face the man behind him. Grell froze and his throat could only produced choked sounds for a moment afterwards.

"No!" He finally managed to stammer. "Not after what he did—you don't just _leave_ a lady in the night! Not unless you pay her!" To be honest, the lines were forced. What he wanted to say was that he didn't know what he felt. He was mad that William had left him behind like a cheap whore, and so badly wounded by it that he began to wonder if—since William was right about almost everything—was his value, even as a prostitute, nothing at all? Was he…worthless?

He didn't want to say this because… … what if Undertaker realized it, too?

Undertaker turned around to face Grell who stood on the step below him. Though Grell couldn't see his eyes, his feelings were just as well transmitted by the odd pout on the man's lips.

"I don't like him touching you," Undertaker said suddenly as if he hadn't heard Grell's confession and didn't notice the helplessness that had appeared on his face.

Grell looked at him nervously, not knowing what to expect until the man began to smirk again and then lowered his head to kiss him on the same spot that William had.

Grell blushed slightly, but the colour didn't stay for long. Undertaker had taken up staring at him in almost a disapproving manner that made him self-conscious.

"What is it?" Grell stammered, thinking to back down the steps and flee the shop.

"It won't do," Undertaker said in the same tone of voice he used when dealing with difficult customers. "You're tainted."

"Tainted?" Grell repeated, more confused and offended than scared and hurt.

"Everywhere he touched is…dirty," Undertaker said, his mouth trembling as if he were trying to ward of a grin or fit of laughter.

"No it's not!" Grell argued, pursing his lips.

"Yes it is," Undertaker said, keeping himself under control for the moment. "I'll have to—ooo—clean whatever he touched." Some of his reserve broke and he began to chuckle. "And since I don't know what he touched…" This time he couldn't fight off the laughter that left Grell feeling both nervous and excited at the same time. "I'll just have to…clean everything." Grell blushed darkly and continued to ascend the stairs, clipping Undertaker's shoulder as he moved past him on the steps.

Undertaker's smile faltered as he watched the seemingly reluctant reaper as he entered the room above. He started to follow with lowering spirits, but when his "lady" in red stood in the doorway of his bedroom, winking at him from over "her" shoulder, his grin and elation returned.

~Alice Von Wonderland

Closing Note: I tried to make this a longer chapter since I took so long to update. I tried to keep it light hearted at the end but still believable, and I definitely didn't want an "I caught you cheating and now I'm upset with you" sub-plot to develop.

I also apologize again if anyone is OOC. I tried.


	5. Chapter 5

Title: My Boy Builds Coffins

Pairing: Grell X Undertaker

Rating: T—M, consider it being between the two

Story Contains: Yaoi

Chapter Warnings: Psst… this is the final chapter…and it's really short

Summary: Grell has finally met his "other half", but for a lady like him, apprenticing an undertaker is just filthy business. How will he ever manage to keep this relationship going if he's unwilling to get his hands dirty?

Disclaimer: I don't own the characters, or the show Kuroshitsuji/Black Butler. I do not own, nor do I claim to have invented the title "My Boy Builds Coffins" (Florence + the Machine). All rights belong to their respective owners and I make no money from this story.

Chapter Number: #5

Author Note: I know you don't care for my life story, but the reason my update took so long was the result of three factors. The first, I'm employed again! The second, my trainer at work quit his job so I now work both his shift and mine. (5 am to varying 11:00-12:30) And finals are creeping up in a couple of weeks.

I think I'm half dead, but I've enjoyed writing this for myself and all of you—enjoy.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

"Do you wish he would have stayed?"

"Sometimes I do," Grell confessed. "But not often…not recently."

The room was dark except for the faint blue glow that radiated from behind the closed curtains. There was a chill in the air, but not an uncomfortable one. It was just enough to compliment the heat beneath the covers.

"I'm happier with you," Grell whimpered. "I'd rather be with you than William." Undertaker was silent, like he often was in the dark. "You don't make me feel the…bad way that he does." Hiding away in the dark, it was easier to say what you were feeling. You couldn't see each other's faces to gauge reactions and rethink words.

"The Bad Way?" Undertaker asked in a resonating drawl, saying 'bad way' as if it were a title.

Grell was quiet for a while, but Undertaker let the silence go undisrupted.

"You know how he made me feel when he left," Grell whispered. "It was like I didn't mean anything… and William is usually so right about everything. I thought that I was…that worthless."

"What reassures you that you're—hmmm—not?" Undertaker asked, intentionally humming to express his curiosity and assert his view that Grell was, in fact, one of the most valuable things in the world.

"You wouldn't waste time on something pointless," Grell answered.

"Dressing a body to go in the ground is pointless. It would be more purposeful to just chuck the corpses into the sea and feed the earth with the decay." Grell twitched a little. Was it really necessary to go into such gory detail while in bed?

"Do you think I'm pointless?" Grell asked, just to hear Undertaker say he wasn't.

"You are if you go back to William," Undertaker said in an oddly serious and flat tone.

"I don't want to go back to William," Grell protested. "I'd rather be with you."

"Ooo—why?"

"Because I love you," Grell annunciated, glaring in Undertaker's direction but not sure if their gazes even met.

"Why?" Undertaker's seriousness was replaced by a playful tone.

"Because I just do—why do you love me?"

"Because you're red." Grell giggled and squirmed beneath the covers, cuddling close to the undertaker with the creepy grin.

Why did he love him? Because he was red. Because he was himself—loud, flashy, obscene, and passionate.

Why did he love him?

Because he was obnoxious, perverse, and obsessive.

Because he was everything that Will seemed to hate.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Grell washed the floors, and the counters, the shelves, the bottles, the phials, the caskets, and the windows upstairs—anything in reach, really, so he wouldn't have to go back to the bodies. Undertaker had been pressing him to try embalming again, even though he'd previously said he wouldn't allow it (attempt it) again.

Everything was washed to a pristine shine, especially the window in the hall.

Grell stared out of it at the alley below and watched an out of place man in a stuffy suit pace the narrow area.

William came by often enough, but not every day. Grell hid from him at work—most of the time—only nearing him during the times when William couldn't afford to say anything the two of them or what they could have had.

What they could "still" have.

What they could have, Grell realized without anyone else's help, was a secret affair. Everyone knew that those never worked out in the end. Someone always found out about your secret lover, and if anyone found out about him and Will they would both be terminated.

Grell's only love—other than Undertaker of course—was reaping. It was pleasurable and exciting, like a one-night-stand. Grell cheated on Undertaker with work, and that was how he was going to keep it, even when William suggested they meet up again.

Grell was going to be no one's call girl. What he had with the strange undertaker with the marred face and creepy smile was far too valuable to waste on fleeting lust.

Compared to the love lavished on him every day in the strangest of ways by the undertaker, the night of passion he and William had shared was nothing. Not even the spark of a match against the sun.

Sometimes, Grell even found himself feeling glad that Will had abandoned him that night. If he'd stayed or even said a word of departure, Grell felt that he would never have known happiness.

Nor would he have intimately known the horrible stains that corpses leave on tables…or a bullheaded lover who insisted that he get the impossible stain out.

Grell grumbled furiously to himself as he scrubbed at the table with a brush and soapy water. You weren't supposed to use plain water on wood, but Grell didn't care anymore. Maybe the water would dilute the awkward, purplish stain and drain the colour farther into the wood where it could _disappear_.

All he heard was the sound of his brush scraping the wood, not the footsteps creeping up behind him. The lighting wasn't right to cast a shadow over his head on the table, so Grell remained unaware of the person approaching him until two unnaturally strong arms encircled his waist.

Grell gasped and froze, one arm supporting his weight as he bent over the table and the other outstretched as he scrubbed at the table's far side. He cast his eyes as far to his left as he could, trying to catch a glimpse of who had ensnared him without turning his head.

"Do you know what—ooo—other stain never comes out?" his captor drawled. Grell chuckled and tossed the brush away, crossing his arms on the table and remaining bent over it.

"Blood?" Grell suggested innocently, raising a brow and smirking devilishly with his sharp, jagged teeth.

Undertaker chuckled quietly and Grell found his own grin broadening.

William had said that Grell was too good for Undertaker.

Grell had a feeling that they fit together just right, and that William obviously had no idea what he was talking about.

~Alice Von Wonderland

Closing Note: I know the ending is a little abrupt, but I wanted to end on the note of a giggle. All in all, Grell is over Will, Will isn't always right, and Undertaker wins by default.

Thank you all for reading, but I think it's time I went to bed. There are jelly donut and cream sticks in need of being filled, tables in need of cleaning, and an awful lot of customers to serve.


End file.
